


A Helping Hand(print)

by CashaMayfield



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashaMayfield/pseuds/CashaMayfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Written for the  <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://mecha-erotica.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://mecha-erotica.livejournal.com/">mecha_erotica</a> March challenge – Good Clean Fun!  All about doing the dirty in the water…</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand(print)

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Livejournal on 30/04/2007

It just had to be an oil refinery.  
He just had to be standing next to the tank when Megatron fired.  
And get covered.  
Completely.  
Primus, sometimes it just wasn’t fair.

Prowl stood under the cascading water watching as it dripped off his chassis, slightly disappointed that the water was still running fairly clear.  He’d spent an hour so far trying to clean the oil off.  He’d had his orders from Ratchet, and no Autobot in their right mind (save perhaps Sideswipe and Sunstreaker) would dare disobey the medic.  Especially when he got that glint in his optics.  Ratchet had taken one look at Prowl as he trudged wearily in to the repair bay and snorted.  Then proceeded to order the tactician straight to the wash racks with the words “There is no way on this Primus forsaken planet that I am even attempting to see what damage you’ve taken under all that, let alone repair it.  Slagging well clean up then come back!”  
The Chief Medical Officer had such an eloquent way with words.

He reached for the bottle of cleaning fluid again, wincing as the movement sent jolts of pain through his circuitry.  The sooner he could get this oil off and get repaired the better.  Grimacing, he squirted the cleaning fluid into his hands, slowly rubbing it onto his body.  The oil felt thick against his fingers, the cleaning fluid hardly producing a lather as he rubbed as hard as he dared.  It wouldn’t do to have to touch his paintwork up as well as being repaired.  The unrefined oil stuck like glue and scratched when he slicked it across the surface of his chassis.  
Slowly yet surely, his determination paid off and the water began to run darker as the oil sloughed off his bodywork.  Prowl sighed in relief.

“Finally getting it off then?” A voice disturbed his peaceful thoughts of cleanliness.  There were only two mechs that would be able to sneak up on him without him noticing.  Somehow he didn’t think that Mirage would stand there and watch him shower.  Besides the tone of that voice was instantly recognisable and irresistible.  
“Jazz.”  Behind him, he could almost hear Jazz grin.  
“Hey now how’d ya know it were me?”  
“Because there are only two Autobots who can sneak up on me.  And only one of them is daft enough to do it.”  
“I ain’t daft.  Just concerned.  Overheard Ratchet saying what a mess you’d made of yourself and thought I ought to offer a hand.” Jazz replied, ignoring the jibe and coming to rest his hands on the very tips of Prowl’s doorwings.  
“Your help would… ah… be appreciated.” Prowl said, trying hard to not think about the subtle way Jazz was moving his fingers along his doorwings.  Jazz chuckled.  He knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what effect it would have on Prowl.  Nothing pleased him more than reducing the normally calm and reticent tactician to a quivering mech begging for release.  Which he was more than happy to provide of course.  That was the beauty of their relationship.  They could be themselves.  Prowl felt he was more able to show his emotions around Jazz than the other Autobots; a fact Jazz took great pride in.  And Jazz could also mope around their quarters; a complete change from the normally happy go-lucky mech that he appeared to be.  
Prowl leant back against Jazz, relaxing against him while the water washed over the both of them.  His momentary pleasure was not to last long however, as more servos and pulleys protested against the position.  With a mutter, he forced himself upright once more, staring dismally at his chassis.  
“It will never all come off.”  
“Course it will.” Jazz smiled, taking the cleaning cloth out of Prowl’s hand.  “Just need a bit of work.” He snickered.  Even though Jazz was still standing behind him, Prowl swore he could see the glint in his optics underneath that visor.  
“Clean then repairs then recharge.” He corrected.  
“Spoilsport.” Jazz muttered as he began cleaning Prowl’s back.  
“I am nothing of the sort.  I just simply do not have the energy for anything after today.” Prowl replied.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to.  It was just that every circuit was currently sending pain signals to his cpu and warnings were flashing in front of his optics as to how damaged and how low on energon he was.  Correction, make that every circuit except the ones beneath the panel Jazz had started caressing.  Those circuits were sending signals of pleasure that began to make him forget the pain and the oil.  He made a soft sound which made Jazz chuckle.  
“Not quite so worn out then?” He smiled and continued his ministrations, moving to areas he knew would send more of the pleasurable stimuli racing into Prowl’s cpu.  
“Gnnahh.” Was all Prowl could manage.  Jazz’s grin widened.  He turned his attention back to cleaning the oil off Prowl.  Wouldn’t do to get them both dirty.

Finally he tapped Prowl on the shoulder.  
“Turn around.” Was his soft request.  Meticulously, Jazz cleaned virtually all the oil off Prowl’s chassis, ignoring Prowl’s darkening optics as he rubbed over sensitive plating.  
“Jazz…” How Prowl could put so much emotion into one word, Jazz still had yet to figure out.  A hand on his shoulder made him wordlessly stop his movements with the cloth.  As exhausted as Prowl may have been, Jazz could tell that he was straining to hold back; his energy field almost tangible, pulsating with need.  Jazz may not have directly intended that result, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.  He let go off the cloth, hardly noticing as it impacted on the wet floor.  The water continued to cascade down over them but neither noticed or even cared.  All that mattered at that moment was the connection between them.  The connection between them and the connection of their energy fields.  Waves and waves of pleasure as they slowly touched before the overwhelming sensations as they finally connected fully.

Ratchet could do nothing but stare as Jazz helped Prowl down to the repair bay.  
“Slagging well took long enough.” He muttered as between them they got Prowl settled on one of the medical berths.  
“Lot of oil Ratchet.  But we got it all eventually”  
“I can see.” Ratchet decided he wouldn’t mention the perfect handprint in oil on Jazz’s shoulder.  “Good clean fun eh?” He smirked, revelling in Jazz’s rare embarrassed expression.  



End file.
